


touch me all silent

by changgus



Series: where i go, when i go there [1]
Category: ONF (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, M/M, Oral Sex, Shotgunning, tenderly dyeing your best friend's hair in your bathroom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2020-07-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:42:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25028698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/changgus/pseuds/changgus
Summary: The first time it happens they’re both a little bit drunk and a lot a bit keyed up and while it’s not weird for Seungjoon to crawl into his bed and into his space, it’s everything after Hyojin is not so sure about.
Relationships: Kim Hyojin/Lee Seungjoon | J-Us
Series: where i go, when i go there [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1818037
Comments: 16
Kudos: 127





	touch me all silent

**Author's Note:**

> me: i just wanna write smth fun and light!  
> also me: titles this with spring awakening lyrics
> 
> anyway this ended up being very different than i intended but i _did_ say that i wanted to write onf/onf at some point and it looks like just crossing the two week mark of fuse-hood is as good a time as any.
> 
> just one quick note - there are two scenes in which characters get together while ~under the influence~ everything is completely consensual so it didn't feel worth tagging but i do know that sort of thing makes some people uncomfortable so did want to just stick it in here so there's no surprises - as always, hope y'all enjoy!

The first time it happens they’re both a little bit drunk and a lot a bit keyed up and while it’s not weird for Seungjoon to crawl into his bed and into his space, it’s everything after Hyojin is not so sure about. In a way it feels inevitable, that they were always heading towards this point and Hyojin finds that it fits neatly into their post-party routine. He pencils it in carefully right in between ‘order drunk onion rings’ and ‘wake up to Seungjoon stealing the blankets.’

Seungjoon’s mouth is wet against his neck, breath stuttering out in warm gasps as they rock against each other. He knows what it feels like to have Seungjoon pressed against him, to feel the weight of his body, but this is different. This is one way in which he has known other people but never known Seungjoon. Hyojin shifts his head and their lips catch. With his eyes closed and the pressure of Seungjoon’s fingers on his hip, heavy like an anchor and grounding, he feels less like he is too big for his own body, less like his head is a ship set to sea.

Hyojin adjusts the angle, digging his fingers into Seungjoon’s ass to increase the friction. The drag is dry but good and he just needs, he just needs. Seungjoon slides his hands into Hyojin’s pajama pants and pushes them down just enough to wrap his hand around him.

He fucks into the tight circle of Seungjoon’s fist until he comes. They don’t talk about it the next day.

Hyojin sits on their kitchen counter wearing a sweatshirt that he thinks maybe might have been Seungjoon’s at some point but after so many years all the lines are blurred. He complains about Seungjoon burning their breakfast but eats it anyway. He reaches out and presses his cold toes into the back of Seungjoon’s thigh where it’s exposed by his shorts and he squirms away, whining about burning the rest, and they both laugh.

The cardboard boxes from last night’s takeout still sit stacked on the counter, grease stains bleeding through. It’s the only reminder.

In the warm morning light everything feels the same, is the same. The sun slats over the coffee table in their living room just like every other morning. Seungjoon throws his legs over Hyojin’s lap on the couch and Hyojin pushes him off. Down the hall they can hear Changyoon’s alarm going off for his morning class. 

“Do we need more eggs?” Hyojin asks, tapping their grocery list into his phone. He’ll go today after class, or maybe wait until Seungjoon can walk with him and help carry the bags. 

“Yeah,” Seungjoon shifts his angle so he can lean his face against Hyojin’s shoulder and read what he’s got so far. “And you’re almost out of those snack cakes you like.”

“Maybe if someone stopped stealing them.” Hyojin looks at him out of the corner of his eye.

“Ah, that’s not fair. It’s not my fault you always pick the best stuff.” Seungjoon whines, pouting directly where Hyojin can see.

“Or the worst.” Hyojin rolls his eyes, shoves Seungjoon off his shoulder. “I picked you.”

“So are you saying you _don’t_ like them, because I could happily finish the last two.” Seungjoon has his hand over his chest like he is offering up only the greatest kindness. He’s backlit with the window behind him softening all of his edges and Hyojin thinks he looks different, somehow. Or maybe he’s just never really looked before. 

And that’s what’s weird, he guesses, more than suddenly knowing how his best friend tastes or what his face looks like when he comes. It’s that he is now looking at someone he has looked at almost everyday for the past ten years and seeing something different.

Hyojin compartmentalizes. 

He’s good at it too, likes the organization. He can keep everything neat in his mind the same way he picks up Seungjoon’s shoes and puts them away on the shelf every time he kicks them off carelessly by the door.

Seungjoon texts him no less than six times during his studio class and he hides his phone under his desk though his professor is too busy making them sit through a greatest hits reel of his own work to ever notice or care.

_you /know/ i’m in class right now_

**Seungjoonie**  
_am i not allowed to miss u??_  
_my best friend?? Light of my life??_

Hyojin rolls his eyes, types out _no_ , attaches a horribly edited picture of Seungjoon courtesy of Minkyun just to really drive it home.

The thing about this is that if it were anyone other than Seungjoon, Hyojin thinks maybe none of it would matter. He’s slept with other people before, guys he’s met at parties or who know how to say the right things on grindr. It’s not about that, really, it’s about the fact that it _is_ Seungjoon. Seungjoon who knows far too much about him, is so intertwined in every single facet of his life. He doesn’t let himself think about it.

When he gets home, both arms lined and straining with the reusable grocery bags he’d actually remembered to bring for once, Seungjoon and Changyoon are already waiting on the couch.

“Dude, you could’ve asked for my car.” Changyoon calls out but makes no move to get up and help.

“Aren’t you supposed to be on set today?” Hyojin heaves the bags up onto the counter, finally releasing his arms, though they burn in all the places the straps dug in.

They rarely see Changyoon, if ever, since he’s always bouncing from film set to film set. It’s only gotten worse since he made it his personal mission to carry their baby friend Yuto through all of his intro classes.

“Yeah, no, our original location fell through. I sent Wyatt to location scout.” He slides down further into their couch, pulling on the strings of his hoodie. “I’m over it. I’m gonna take a fat nap, that’s my day.”

Seungjoon sneaks into the kitchen and attaches himself to Hyojin while he puts away the groceries. He hooks his chin over his shoulder and snakes his arms around his waist, waddles around behind him while Hyojin keeps going and pretends he’s not being weighed down by a koala. 

“You should let me do your hair later.” He reaches his hand up to run his fingers through where Hyojin’s hair has started to fade from red to a weird shade of pink.

“I can just do it.”

“Yeah, but I want to.” His breath tickles the short hairs at the base of Hyojin’s neck.

When later comes, Hyojin sits perched on the edge of the toilet in their tiny bathroom wearing a t-shirt from a middle school play he only remembers because it was his first time scoring the lead. It shouldn’t even still fit him but it does. Seungjoon had insisted he didn’t need gloves and he looks like he’s just committed a whole list of crimes massaging the red dye into each messy section of Hyojin’s hair. He’s got one knee up on the seat next to Hyojin’s thigh, leaning over him to make sure he doesn’t miss anything and Hyojin can smell his perfume.

Seungjoon had ordered at least six different samples before settling on one, made Hyojin smell all of them until he got a headache trying to choose. This one smells like autumn, rich and a little bit spicy.

Hyojin feels all the places Seungjoon has gotten sloppy, hair dye wet around his forehead, on the tips of his ears, even a smudge of it on his neck. But Seungjoon looks so concentrated while he works, tongue poking at the corner of his mouth like this is the most important thing he’s done all day. 

At one point Seungjoon forgets himself and smudges a streak of it across his own cheek trying to tuck a piece of hair behind his ear.

“Oh no, I’m stained!” He drops dramatically into Hyojin’s lap. 

“Calm down.”

“Tainted.”

“Alright, alright.” Hyojin laughs.

“ _Ruined_ , Jinnie.” He’s pouting again and Hyojin tries not to focus on the way they are pressed together, how it would look if Changyoon were to come into the bathroom and find them.

“You’ll be fine, you big baby.” He says and without thinking he reaches up to brush the dye away with the pad of his thumb. It doesn’t help. He lets his hand linger against his cheek. That doesn’t help either.

The next time it happens, Seungjoon has been a storm all day. Sometimes, on his worse days, he’ll just lock himself away in his room. Spend hours with his music so loud Hyojin can hear it through his own headphones, feel it under his skin. This is not one of those, instead he crawls into Hyojin’s bed just past one.

“It’s just me.” He whispers, pressing a hand to Hyojin’s shoulder before he slips under the covers.

Hyojin’s eyes are still half-closed, exhausted, but he opens his arms up for Seungjoon anyway who scoots in until they’re nose to nose. Even once Hyojin’s blinked himself awake it’s so dark in his room all he can see is Seungjoon right in front of him, outlined in blue.

He’s never been good at hiding his feelings, every flash of emotion written in bright ink across his face.

“Bad day?” He runs his fingers up Seungjoon’s side, feather light. He can feel the ridges of his ribcage through the thin cotton of his t-shirt.

Seungjoon just nods, the tips of their noses brushing against each other, and tugs on Hyojin’s comforter until it swallows the both of them. The last bit of light that had filtered in through his window stamps out and it takes Hyojin’s eyes a minute to adjust.

This they’ve done for a long time, pulled the covers over their heads so it feels like it is only the two of them in the world. It helps, on the bad days. Just to hold and be held in turn.

Seungjoon shoves one of his legs in between Hyojin’s so he can press their bodies together. It’s times like this, in the dark where it’s safe to feel, that he thinks he would crack open his own chest and let Seungjoon crawl inside if that’s what he needed. “What do you need?”

“Just this.” Seungjoon hums against his lips.

Hyojin can feel Seungjoon’s heartbeat under his fingers, fluttering. He wonders if Seungjoon can feel his doing the same. He wants to be closer. 

When Seungjoon kisses him this time it’s slow and gentle, like a question rolling off his tongue. Hyojin says yes. Over and over again, he says yes.

They still don’t talk about it. Hyojin goes to class, Seungjoon goes to class. They walk to the park for lunch when the weather is warm enough, play video games on the couch, see their friends, all of their usual routines. And then they come home at night and start new ones, Hyojin spending hours opening Seungjoon up and learning all the ways he can make his toes curl.

They’re in Hyojin’s bed, always in Hyojin’s bed. Seungjoon licks into his mouth, hungry, starving. He’s rocking against Hyojin’s thigh desperately, whines pulling from the back of his throat with every rough drag of his hips. 

“Can I blow you?” His lips are swollen and kissed-pink and his voice comes out fucked as he asks. 

Hyojin can’t even get the words out, just nods his head and guides Seungjoon’s hand to his cock. Seungjoon dips down and takes him deep in his mouth. The feeling is overwhelming, wet and hot, and Seungjoon looks beautiful. His face is flushed and sweet but then he hollows his cheeks and Hyojin bucks into the pressure. Seungjoon flattens one of his palms across Hyojin’s hip to hold him still while he licks a stripe up the underside of his cock with the flat of his tongue.

Seungjoon swallows him down again, twisting his hand around the base. Hyojin wants to move desperately but Seungjoon keeps him pinned in place.

“I’m close.” He manages, one hand fisted in his sheets and the other in Seungjoon’s bleached hair. He expects Seungjoon to pull off but he doesn’t, instead finally releasing his hold on his hip and letting Hyojin fuck into his mouth until it’s too much. Seungjoon crawls back up the bed so Hyojin can finish him off with his hand and comes over their tangled fingers. 

“You didn’t have to do that, y’know.” Hyojin says, later, after they’ve cleaned up and they’re laying back together in his bed, Seungjoon tucked against his chest.

“I know.” Seungjoon shrugs his shoulders. “I wanted to.”

The shift rolls in like a summer storm, building heavy in the air for days before it breaks. Everyone’s caught up in midterms which have Hyojin spending hours hunched over a lightbox until he thinks his spine might just give up on him entirely. If Seungjoon is even home, it’s only to change his clothes. 

Their old routines stick, but the new ones shift.

Changyoon makes a joke over a rare lunch with all three of them together, says they’ve seemed closer while wiggling his eyebrows. Says he _couldn’t help but notice_ like it’s a secret between the three of them.

Hyojin laughs it off, they’ve been best friends for over half their lives they can’t _get_ closer. Seungjoon stops coming to him at night.

They still sit on the couch when they’ve got breaks, watch dumb shit on youtube while Seungjoon tries to cuddle and Hyojin pretends to be annoyed. They fold together in the daylight hours, hands tangling when Hyojin brings Seungjoon lunch, Seungjoon tucking his nose between Hyojin’s shoulder blades when he’s been working too long.

Seungjoon starts staying at his academic building overnight. Hyojin goes to sleep alone.

After midterms end, one of Seungjoon’s friends from his department invites them all out to his house off campus to celebrate. Hyojin’s not sure how much he and Changyoon are actually invited and how much it’s just that Seungjoon seems to always have a way of getting what he wants.

Hyojin spends an hour getting ready, less for his benefit and more for Changyoon who loves when he lets him play dress up.

“Wait, what are we _doing_ , I have the perfect shirt. Hold on.” This is the third time Changyoon has run from the room to grab something from his own room. It’s not that Hyojin doesn’t care about fashion, it’s just his interests are targeted on expensive ugly sneakers that he keeps on a rack in his closet so they don’t get scuffed or stained. And Changyoon has an eye for things.

Changyoon is buttoning Hyojin into a drapey, patterned button-up when Seungjoon wanders in and drapes himself across Hyojin’s bed like a cat. Hyojin gets that weird feeling again, like he did after the first time they were together, seeing Seungjoon against his sheets now. The context is different, Changyoon is there for one, but it’s not hard to let his mind drift. Skin, sweat, salt, Seungjoon’s tongue.

He shifts his focus to Changyoon’s hands moving up his torso instead. Safe. When Changyoon is finished, he pulls back to arm’s length to take a look. Apparently satisfied with what he’s seeing, he pats Hyojin on the cheek.

Seungjoon whistles at him in imitation of a catcall and Hyojin sticks out his tongue.

They decided to take an Uber over because Changyoon has earned this goddammit and the parking near Hwitaek’s house is abysmal anyway. His house is on a block packed tight with other old, small paint-peeled two-stories with an alleyway running behind it just big enough for a car but barely.

By the time they get there, just late enough to feel cool about it, things have clearly already started. There’s a couple people sitting on the front porch, cigarettes dangling from their fingers, a box of PBRs balanced precariously on one of the railings. Heavy bass rattles the old windows, colored lights pulsing through the curtains.

They push through the house into the kitchen where Seungjoon hugs Hwitaek hello while one of his roommates, who they’re told is called Hyuna as she air-kisses all of them, pours them three sticky solo cups worth of jungle juice. The kitchen isn’t really big enough to hold all of them, or any of them for that matter, and the lights are too bright against the rest of the house.

Hyojin regrets not pre-gaming more seriously. They’d clinked together cheap little bottles of wine sitting on the curb outside their building while they waited for their car, but he’s still far too sober. He watches Seungjoon make small talk with the lip of his cup between his teeth. At least it gives him something to do with his mouth.

“This is Hyojinnie, the one I always tell you about.” Seungjoon says, curling his hand posessively around Hyojin’s arm. “And Changyoon, our other roommate.”

“Wow, cold.” Changyoon huffs, takes a large sip from his cup. His lips are stained sticky and red. “The other roommate. I see what I bring to this family.”

Seungjoon goes to defend himself, to sing Changyoon’s praises, tell him he is _the best of ‘em_ , but Hyojin’s head is starting to get hot, fuzzy. Seungjoon is still holding onto his arm as he drains the rest of his drink and refills it. His teeth feel too sweet in his mouth, tongue heavy with the sugar of it.

After another round, Hyojin lets Seungjoon drag him into the living room to dance.

He feels better here, without the harsh kitchen lighting, when he can focus on Seungjoon and Seungjoon alone. The playlist is a perfect blend of all the loud pop songs they like, the ones they all sing at the top of their lungs riding around in Changyoon’s car. 

Dancing is another one of their routines, they know how to move together, they’re good at it. Seungjoon has his back against Hyojin’s chest, head thrown onto his shoulder, neck exposed. It would be so easy to press his teeth there, right along the curve. He slides the fingers on his free hand through the belt loops of Seungjoon’s jeans, pulls him back, pulls him closer.

Hyojin realizes it’s been a long time since either of them have danced with other people. He used to like it when someone would come up behind him, hold him, pull him away at the end of the night. The next day he’d sit on the couch with Seungjoon while they rated their respective guys. A dumb criteria they’d made in high school. He doesn’t remember when they stopped.

A feeling comes to simmer right in the core of his chest, something he is still too afraid to put words to. This, like so many things that have gone wrong in his life, is Seungjoon’s fault too. 

He runs his nose up Seungjoon’s neck and breathes out just behind the shell of his ear. The music is so loud he can feel the bassline reverberating under his skin like fireworks. Seungjoon shivers under his hands, knocks back what’s left at the bottom of his cup in one go.

“I need another one, c’mon.” He says standing up suddenly, threading his fingers through Hyojin’s to pull him back towards the kitchen.

Seungjoon pulls himself up onto the kitchen counter like he belongs there, like this is his home too. He kicks the soles of his shoes back against the chipped wood cabinets beneath him impatiently while Hyojin ladles them another round. On third cup Hyojin decides that jungle juice is gross, actually, and maybe he’s getting too old or his taste is just changing but it’s making his head feel like it weighs at least a thousand pounds.

He leans against the counter just next to where Seungjoon is perched and rests his heavy head on his shoulder. Seungjoon’s arm is warm against his, holding him up like a column.

“I really like this shirt.” Seungjoon knocks his shoulder into Hyojin’s cheek and the room sways for a second. “Changyoon did good.”

Hyojin watches Seungjoon’s throat as he drinks, the bob of his adam’s apple with each swallow. There’s a drip of juice clinging to the corner of his mouth when he lowers his cup and Hyojin wants to take care of it with his tongue.

Someone Hyojin doesn’t recognize, but who Seungjoon clearly does, is suddenly talking to them. He’s tall and soft looking, his hair a fluffy mess on top of his head. Seungjoon’s smiling, catlike, as he speaks.

“We’re gonna smoke, if you want some.” He says and then hitches his thumb in the direction of the backdoor. “Out in my car though, Hyojong hates the smell.”

Only half the words mean anything to him and Hyojin certainly didn’t _ask_ but he nods anyway when Seungjoon turns to look at him. Hyojin doesn’t really want to smoke in a car with a boy in a clearly homemade tie-dyed Harry Styles shirt, but he wants to keep his head on Seungjoon’s shoulder, even if that means moving.

“We” ends up being two of the most freakishly tall boys Hyojin has ever seen, which he hates immediately. They’re already waiting outside, leaning against the car and playing some sort of hand game. 

The car is an old beat-up Jeep, small, and they have to pull the front seat forward in order to climb into the back. 

Hyojin makes the mistake of crawling in first, knocking his knee on the lever as he tries to get the leverage to hoist himself up. He barely has a moment to settle into the worn leather and assess the damage to his kneecap before Seungjoon is climbing in after him.

The thing is there’s not really enough seats for the amount of people and there’s a moment where Seungjoon and the first guy, who’s name he’s learning is Shinwon as it comes out of Seungjoon’s mouth, try to figure out the logistics.

Seungjoon shrugs. “I can just sit in his lap.”

‘His lap’ being ‘Hyojin’s lap’, which is fine, truly. He’s used to the weight, not even phased as Seungjoon crawls over and settles into him, turned to the side with his back against the window and his legs swung over Hyojin’s. He shifts his hips to get comfortable and Hyojin doesn’t know where to put his hands.

He ends up settling with on top of Seungjoon’s thighs, at least until the bowl is being passed back. It’s little, blue and marbled. The lighter has a picture of a cartoon girl in a bathing suit on it.

Hyojin takes a hit first, trying very hard not to cough and embarrass himself in front of people he doesn’t know. His throat burns with the effort.

The car fills up fast, everything a little hazy and distant. With each inhale his head swims, the only anchor to the car the press of Seungjoon against him.

He feels light, good, like his body is hollow but he is not scared. He wants to explain it to Seungjoon, wants him to see how light his bones are under his skin, wants to share everything with him, always. 

“Hyojinnie, help me with this one.” Seungjoon presses the lighter into Hyojin’s palm and leans down expectantly. The porch light filtering through the smoke catches on the glitter Seungjoon has smeared onto his cheekbones, halos around his split ends, he looks like an angel.

Hyojin sparks the lighter with the pad of his thumb and watches Seungjoon pull in deep. Without breaking eye contact, he lifts Hyojin’s chin with his free hand. Gentle, just his thumb and index finger.

Seungjoon leans in and slots their mouths together, breathes into him. Hyojin is aware somewhere in the back of his mind that there are still other people in the car. That the world has not in fact narrowed down to only Seungjoon’s mouth, his mouth, Seungjoon’s lungs, his lungs. 

He wants to teleport home, Changyoon be damned. He wants Seungjoon to swallow him whole. He wants to be out of this car with the people he doesn’t know, who know Seungjoon but not the way he does. Seungjoon pulls back with a smile, his eyes glittering, and peels the lighter out of Hyojin’s clenched fingers to pass it with the bowl to one of the boys in the front seat.

Whether they’re in the back of that Jeep for ten minutes or ten hours, Hyojin’s not sure. When they finally climb back out into the cool night air his legs are cramped and grateful for the stretch. Seungjoon lets him hold onto his shoulder for balance as he climbs down, holds him steady when he tilts forward into his side.

Heading back inside feels a little bit like sticking his head into a microwave, everything loud and bright. He can feel anxiety building in his fingers, infecting his limbs. He wants to go home.

They find Changyoon pressed into the couch in the living room, his hair a mess, and Hyojin only feels a little bit bad tapping him on the shoulder to call the Uber back.

Seungjoon plays with the windows the whole ride home. Their driver keeps glaring back at him but he either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care. Or he’s doing it on purpose. The streetlights run over Seungjoon’s profile, blinking yellow and red and blue. Hyojin leans against Changyoon in silent apology.

They get up to their apartment with ease and Changyoon only says _one_ passive aggressive comment under his breath on his way to his room.

Hyojin’s heart is beating in his wrists, he can feel his own pulse in every part of his body. Seungjoon pulls him down the hall, old routines. They don’t bother with the light, just Seungjoon tugging the door shut behind him. He peels off his clothes in the moonlight and Hyojin drinks him in.

“I missed you.” Seungjoon whispers against his lips, pushing him one-handed onto the bed.  


“I didn’t go anywhere.” Hyojin breathes back. His heart is still beating a rhythm so loud his body can’t take it.

“I was scared you would.” Seungjoon is so close that Hyojin can feel his eyelashes flutter against his cheeks. He closes the last distance and seals their mouths together. Seungjoon still tastes sticky and sweet on his tongue, melting like sugar against him.

“I’ve been trying to get rid of you for ten years, dumbass.” He drags his nose along Seungjoon’s jaw, breathing in every sigh, punctuating the skin with his lips. “I think it’s too late now.”

Seungjoon laughs at that, but it comes out watery. Hyojin feels like he’s put his heart in his palms and handed it to Seungjoon to cradle. Seungjoon kisses him again and the world is just Seungjoon’s mouth, his mouth.

In the morning, sunlight seeping through the slats in Hyojin’s blinds and bathing over Seungjoon’s skin, Hyojin thinks maybe none of this was weird at all. He presses his lips to the knob at the top of Seungjoon’s spine as easy as breathing. Seungjoon is his best friend and he is something else. Hyojin hates him and he also something else.

When Seungjoon wakes up and rolls over, warm and pliant with sleep, Hyojin whispers it into his mouth.

**Author's Note:**

> [twitter](https://twitter.com/gayjinho) // [curious cat](https://curiouscat.me/gayjinho)


End file.
